Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (62 page)

How lovely it was to hear from you so soon upon our return to Pemberley.   Scotland was stunning, and although we were there for nearly three months, I feel that we could spend a year and only begin to enjoy all of the beauty.  We walked a great deal and Fitzwilliam taught me to ride.  Of course, we originally planned to remain until August, but we both felt the pull to return to Pemberley and take up our duties at last, so here we are.  I told Fitzwilliam that I felt like a new bride coming home, we have been here so little since we married.  And of course, as much as we both enjoyed our trip, we know that our responsibilities lie here and neither of us have any desire to leave Pemberley again for a great while. 

Like us, you must be rejoicing in the news that Richard has become engaged to Miss Sophie Kelly.  She is a wonderful woman, and I know that he will be very happy with her.  He was hesitant to propose so soon, as Gladney is largely empty.  How very generous and kind Albert was to take some of Rosings’ excess funds to restore the viscount’s estate to its proper glory.  Fitzwilliam considered it an excellent plan to help Richard along.  After all, Albert is master of Rosings now, but his name is connected to Gladney, and it would be a black mark against his title to not restore the property.  Fitzwilliam said that he is quite pleased with the strides his cousin has made since his marriage to Anne, and is positive that surely they were meant to be together all along.

I believe you mentioned something of a ring that you compared to Mrs. George Darcy’s?  Fitzwilliam recalls that something similar to your description was misplaced some time ago.  If this is indeed the same ring, he expresses great pleasure that it has found a home as a symbol of joy between your new reverend and his wife, rather than left unappreciated or locked away in a jewel box. 

Thank you for all of your kind advice and concern, we appreciate it all.  If only my mother had such a friend to help her as she adjusts to her new position as the dowager.  You have made the transition so admirably. 

We hope that you will make the journey to Matlock next month for Richard and Miss Kelly’s wedding, and look forward to seeing you then. 

Your niece,

Elizabeth Darcy

“Have you finished?” 

Elizabeth started.  “I thought that you were working?” 

Darcy laughed, “That was over an hour ago, love.  I believe that I have managed three letters to your one.”  Leaning over her shoulder, he read and pursed his lips together.  “Of course, I was not matching wits with Aunt.  Well done.”

She looked uncertainly down at her finished letter.  “Do you think so?  I thought that I could not outright ignore her demands and advice.  I do not wish to antagonize her.” 

“I think that she will be appeased.  You must remember that you won her over, even if she never admits it to your face.”  He picked up the letter and folded it. Elizabeth lit the stick of sealing wax and Darcy slipped off his ring to press into the red glob.  “I noticed how you made mention of my opinion frequently.” 

“I wanted her to know that we are a united front.”  She looked up at him and received a kiss.  He did not draw away.  Instead he leaned in again, stroking her mouth lingeringly. Elizabeth felt a shiver travel down her spine as he caressed the back of her neck.  Conversation from two maids passing the door woke her from the heady mood.  “Will . . . “

“Hmm?”  He murmured from the vicinity of her ear.

“The door . . .”

“I will go lock it.  Please forgive my forgetfulness.”  Darcy whispered before kissing her again.

“I . . .  Let me take this to Evans to post . . .”

“Ring the bell.”

“Then he will come.”  She smiled at the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.  “Yes, he would delay you more.” 

“Fine,” Standing upright, he moved away.  “Abandon me.” 

Elizabeth laughed.  “Only for a moment.”

“I will have to take your word for that as I have no chronograph.”  He reached to her breast.  “I could borrow yours . . .  Oh, look at this, you are not wearing it.” 

“Will!”  She batted his hand and giving him a backwards smile, she left the room. 

Darcy crossed his arms and leaned his bottom on the desk.  “A united front.  How well that sounds.”  Impatient for her return, he searched for occupation in looking around the impressive room, and after glancing at the empty door, strolled down to one end.  There he examined the delicate ancient texts that he rarely touched, then walked along until he came to the empty shelves waiting for his purchases.  “And my son’s.”  He said softly, touching the smooth wood. Georgiana’s safe delivery had effectively quashed his fears for Elizabeth carrying their children and now he eagerly looked forward to fatherhood.  “So, one good thing came of this horror.”  He smiled sadly.  “No, two.  There is Hope.” 

The family Bible caught his eye and approaching the pedestal, he hesitated before opening the cover.  “What shall we do about Hope?”   His finger traced over Georgiana’s name and paused.  “No.  I am sorry, dear.  George Wickham’s name will not be written upon these pages.”  Moving his finger upwards, he rested it under his uncle’s name.  The odd exchange with Wickham that day in the sheep shed came to mind.  It was more than fear on Wickham’s side; he saw fear from his uncle, as well as fury. 

Shaking the nagging thoughts from his head, he looked back down at the Bible.  “I could write her name as their ward . . . after all, she will surely adopt the Darcy name when she comes of age . . .” Turning back the pages, he read the names of the children.  He knew of bastards born into the family, and looked for their names.  “Yes, they are recorded, but . . .” It was as he remembered, a small note was next to each, “Natural child of . . .   No, I cannot do that.  If Hope adopts our name when she is one and twenty, then yes, I shall add her name here, but until then . . .” He closed the book and passed his hand over the cover.  “I am sorry, Hope.” 

His good mood ruined, Darcy walked to the chairs set before the unlit fireplace and sinking down into the leather cushion, closed his eyes.  Something jabbing at his thigh made him feel around and surprised, he pulled out a book stuffed between the cushion and the chair. Curiously, he opened it and nodded.  “Grandmother’s journal, it has been here all of this time.”  Biting his lip, he read again of her concerns for her younger son, his depression, his reaction to laudanum, his battles to please his father and his elder brother’s growing disdain.  Darcy snapped the book shut angrily and jumped up to put it back on the shelf where it belonged.  There he spotted the book of Darcy history, and taking it down he walked back to the chair and sat down.  He slowly paged through, reading stories that he had not seen for years, certainly he had not opened this since his father died.  As he read notes from generations of Darcy men, he began to relax again, and wondered what contribution he would make one day.  Thoughtfully he turned the pages when a sealed envelope fell onto his lap.

“What is this?”  He wondered and turning it over, he was stunned to see that it was addressed to him.  “For me?  How long has this sat here?  At least five years, obviously, but . . .” 

“Will?  What is wrong?”  Elizabeth asked from the doorway.

“I found a letter.”  He looked up and his surprise was clear.   “This is Father’s handwriting.”

“Oh my!  What a wonderful surprise!”  She joined him and noticed the volume in his lap.  “Is this the book full of memorable anecdotes from the generations of Darcys?  Perhaps this is one of your father’s fond memories and he wanted you to be sure that you saw it?”   

“I am sure that you are correct, I wonder what it could be?”

“You will never know if you just sit there staring!”  Elizabeth said impatiently.  Darcy’s thumb ran over the seal and turning his hand, he fitted his father’s ring over the design stamped into the wax.  “A perfect fit.”  He looked to her.  “I hate to break it.”

She sighed at her sentimental husband. “Perhaps if you warmed a blade you could slip it in beneath the wax?  You keep that pocket knife handy so that you are always prepared to collect some memento from a favourite lady.”  She tilted her head and raised her brow.

“Or craft a boat?  How do you think of such things?”  Laughing, he stood and kissed her forehead.  “I am being foolish, I have the same ring; I can always reseal it if necessary.”  They moved to sit together on the sofa and carefully, he opened the envelope and unfolded the sheets.

17 May, 1806

Pemberley

Dear Fitzwilliam,

At this moment you are somewhere in Scotland, hopefully standing on the bank of a stream blissfully casting your line and catching a trout the size of  small child.  I wish that I was with you, but it is important for you to do this travelling on your own and to understand yourself.  You need to find out what sort of a man you are and rely upon your wits, and most importantly, to have a sense of independence from me.  I will not always be here to guide you, although I pray that I will not be leaving you for a very long time.

“He wrote this five months before he died.”  Darcy said softly and with a sigh, kissed Elizabeth’s cheek.

All of my wishes are fine things, but the truth of it is that I have a weak heart.  The physician has pressed his ear to my chest and says that its rhythm is not right.  There are times when I see your mother sitting at the foot of my bed, and I take that as a sign that my time may be approaching.  So I have spent these months while you were away reflecting upon my life, and preparing for Pemberley’s future.

Silently, Darcy read the letter through.  “Father.”  He said softly and setting the pages down, turned his head to look out of the window. 

Elizabeth watched him draw a breath and raise his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  She placed her hand over the one that held the letter. 

“Did you know that his marriage was arranged?  Pemberley had several difficult seasons and Mother’s dowry restored the estate?”

“No.  Does he speak of that in his letter?”

“No.”  He turned back to her and smiled sadly.  “No . . . he says nothing of marriage, nothing of his desire that I marry Anne, nothing of changing the entailment, although that was surely in his mind as he wrote this.  He was in London soon after this was written.  Uncle told me that he was going to speak of his desire that I marry Anne the day that he died.  He would not have left such direction in a book that I may or may not find in time . . .”

Concerned, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “What is wrong?  What does he say?”

Sighing, he picked up the pages and read aloud, “So many stories in this book speak of achievement and pride.  I wish to write of something I think is far more valuable.  I want to write of my mistakes, and my hopes to make amends.”  He saw her concern and feeling her grip tighten, he continued on.  “I rewarded the son of a man I trusted and appreciated.  Where it was truly a valued gift for this man, his son, I am afraid, has come to look at my largess as a right.  I have rewarded him for achieving nothing and in doing so; his expectations have become ones of entitlement.”

“Wickham.”  Elizabeth whispered.  “So your father was beginning to understand what he had created in him.”

“And I suspect that he left him the living thinking that should satisfy this person he created.  He may even have thought he had time to right his wrongs with him, and push him to prepare for his eventual position at Kympton.  But he died before he could begin and I . . .”

“You were left angry with his behaviour and simply wished him away.”

“And look what came of it.  Perhaps I should have forced him to accept the living instead of granting his demand for the money instead.” 

“I think that your father’s words here absolve you of any guilt you carry, Will.  He realizes what he did wrong.   You did not create the problem.”  She kissed him and touched the pages.  “What else does he say?”

Darcy held her eyes for a moment and then turned back to the pages.  “He refers to Uncle Harding.”  Clearing his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reading again, “Entitlement is something that a first son should feel, I did, your Uncle Matlock certainly did, as does his son.  I have only recently begun to appreciate you, Fitzwilliam.  Yes, you are proud, and you are aware of who you are and your place in the world, but never have I seen you behave as a man who expects to be rewarded simply for being born.”

“Albert.” 

“Yes.”  Darcy nodded and continued, “I have spent my life feeling entitled to my position and filled with the opinions of my father.  I regarded his judgement as infallible and thereby failed a man who has done nothing but work endlessly to prove himself worthy of his name.  Because of my failure to support him when he needed me the most, I have seen him sink and rise from near madness more times than I care to say.” 

“Oh, Will . . .” Elizabeth whispered.

“And so I will do my best to care for Pemberley and my family, remembering what I have done and what I have learned.  My charge to you Son is to avoid my mistakes.  Listen to opinion and advice, but follow your mind and your heart.  ‘
For
unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.
’”

“He is very disappointed in himself.”  Elizabeth tugged the pages from Darcy’s hand and read over the letter.  “And he is angry that he has lost his faith in your uncle, despite his achievements.” 

“I do not believe he ever had faith in him.  He saw Uncle through his father’s eyes rather than his own, and he protected his own family to the exclusion of others, including his own brother.  I can see Uncle’s fury over being removed from the entailment now.  It was another slap in the face to him of not being good enough to be a Darcy.”

“But that is not why your father did it?”